Scaredy Kat (10 page)

After about five minutes, I ventured out. There was an older couple standing near the water fountain, talking to a doctor.
The nurse was at her station. And the door to 716 was still open. I decided to walk past the room, glance in to see if the
visitor had gone, then pretend I had accidentally walked too far.

I’m sure if the nurse had been watching me, my acting would have looked pathetic. I had seen that the room was empty, then
gone to the next room, and made a big show of looking at that room number, then examining my Room 716 visitor’s card. Stupid.
But the nurse was on the phone and typing something on her computer at the same time. I darted into 716.

Julius was lying in the room’s only bed, positioned by the window. From where I stood, he looked like he was asleep. But when
I got closer, I could see his eyes were partly opened. A machine nearby was beeping slowly. That was the only sound in the
room. The walls were decorated with drawings and cards. On the wall opposite the bed, a painting was taped to the wall—I immediately
recognized it as the same sunburst I’d seen in Tank’s bedroom. If Julius were to open his eyes, it would be the first thing
he’d see.

I stood near the bed, feeling guilty and ashamed like I was violating the boy’s privacy. Even though he was in a coma, it
seemed rude to just stand there looking at him without saying anything. He wasn’t a museum exhibit. He was a person.

“Hi,” I said quietly. “I’m Kat. I live next door to you . . . I mean, I live next door to your house. On Seth Avenue.”

Julius’s chest rose and fell. His dark, straight hair had been neatly cut short. Though he was very thin, he didn’t look particularly
sick. I guessed from looking at him that he was about my age.

“I’m really sorry about what happened to you,” I said. “Nobody deserves that.”

The sound of Julius’s breathing, punctuated by the slow blip of the machine, was strangely soothing. Something about it reminded
me of a foghorn.

“But don’t give up hope, Julius. You could still wake up and be fine. It happens. Seriously. I’ve read about times where .
. . about cases in which someone is asleep for years and then they just wake up. It could happen to you, too, Julius. You’re
still a kid, and everything. You’ve just, like, missed a whole bunch of school. Which is not necessarily a bad thing.”

Julius’s eyes were completely closed now. He would be cute, I thought, if he weren’t so thin. If he weren’t in a coma.

“I guess it’s pretty weird that I’m here, right? I mean, we didn’t know each other or anything. Before. I moved next door
to your house later. After your family . . .”

It occurred to me that Julius might not know his family had moved. They say a person in a coma can sometimes under-stand what
is being said. I didn’t want to upset him.

“I mean, after your accident. I moved in a few months or so after that happened. So we never met. I just kind of needed to
see you. It’s hard to explain, really. It’s actually because of your brother that I’m here. I saw him, and I got this strong
feeling that for some reason he wanted me to come here. That’s what this is all really about—it’s because of Tank. It’s what
Tank needed.”

As soon as I mentioned Tank’s name, Julius’s eyes moved under his eyelids, the way people do when they’re dreaming. The machine
began to beep faster.

“I . . . what is it, Julius? Is it about Tank? Is there something important I need to know about Tank?”

The machine beeped a little faster. Julius’s eyes kept moving around, and his lip began to twitch. It was really freaking
me out.

I had upset him. The sound of Tank’s name seemed to have really agitated Julius. I was scared and ashamed at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Julius. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m going to go now.”

I walked quickly out of the room and stood in the hallway, leaning my head against the wall. My heart was beating hard and
I was beginning to feel the now familiar sensations of a panic attack. But why now? Why here?

Because you’re in a
hospital,
stupid,
I told myself. There are probably dead people all over the place. And now they’re trying to get your attention.

I felt the blood rush to my face, and I started doing the breathing Orin had taught me.

Soooo, hum. Soooo, hum.

Orin had said he could teach me how to manage my energy—how to separate myself from spirits without sending my body into meltdown.
Why hadn’t I just asked him to tell me right then? At the moment, it seemed like the most important information in the world.
Too bad I didn’t have it.

I stood perfectly still, trying to shut out everything but the sound of my breath and the words
so
and
hum.
Slowly, I started to feel a little more normal.

“Are you okay, honey?”

I turned around, carefully, because I was still a little dizzy. It was the nurse from the station, standing next to me. Her
large, brown eyes seemed concerned and kind.

“Oh, yeah. No, I’m fine. I was just . . . taking some breaths, you know?”

“Sure, sweetie,” the nurse said, smiling. Her name tag said rita leigh. “Amazing how often people forget to breathe.”

I nodded, then swallowed.

“Just in for a visit?”

I looked down at my hands, clutching the big card that said 716. So it was obvious I’d been in Julius’s room.

“Um, yeah,” I said, nodding and making that pained, sympathetic face that goes along with visiting the sick.

“How’s my guy doing today?” Rita asked.

“Oh, well, you know. Fine. I mean, I guess he’s about the same.”

Rita nodded, wrinkling her brow slightly.

“Yeah. He gets taken care of real good, that’s for sure. His mama is here every day, for hours at a time. Reading to him,
and brushing his hair and massaging his muscles. But you probably know that. I haven’t seen you before, though.”

“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “I didn’t . . . I mean, I haven’t visited that much. I just . . . you know, I get to thinking about
the accident sometimes, and I want to pop by and see how he’s doing. People wake up from comas, don’t they?”

“They do, sometimes,” Rita said. “When you’ve been down more than two years, it’s not so common. But it does happen.”

“So it’s possible. Julius could wake up,” I said.

“Julius?” Rita asked. She seemed to give me a funny look.

Uh oh. What had I said wrong? Julius van Hecht was listed as room 716, and that was the room I went into. Had I made a mistake?
Could there be more than one kid in a coma at Philips Memorial?

“I’m sorry?” I asked.

“Nobody ever calls him Julius,” Rita said. “I guess you don’t know him that well.”

Uh oh.

“Yeah, no,” I said, looking at my feet, then back into Rita’s wide brown eyes. She didn’t look angry, or suspicious. Just
curious.

“The truth is I barely know him at all. I’m from his neighborhood—our house is next door to where he lived when it happened
. . . and I just . . .”

Rita nodded.

“No, I understand, sweetie. Sometimes we feel connected to a person after something like this happens, even if we weren’t
connected before. I’m glad you came by. Tank needs all the visitors he can get.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Tank?”

Rita laughed.

“Yep. That’s what folks who know him call him. His whole name is Julius Sherman van Hecht, and his mom said he hated the Julius
part, and he wasn’t much keener on the Sherman part. But Sherman is also the name of a kind of tank—did you know that? And
he loved playing with toy tanks ever since he was in diapers. So they call him Tank.”

My panic attack was coming back.

“I need to go,” I said, backing away.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetie? I could get you some water.”

“Thanks, I’m fine,” I called over my shoulder. If I was going to pass out again, I’d rather be in the elevator where I had
the chance of doing so privately.

The elevator came almost immediately. This time, there was a man already in it. He took no notice of me. He just stared at
his shoes, his eyes blank. I stood in the corner, holding on to the railing and doing Orin’s breathing. A million thoughts
were trying to bust into my mind, and I struggled to keep them out.

I had seen Tank’s spirit in the house. A young Tank. About the age he’d been before the accident.

But Tank wasn’t dead.

What had I seen? What was happening to me?

When we came to the lobby, I sprinted for the door. I guess I heard someone calling, but I didn’t think they were talking
to me. I was halfway through the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It scared me so much I let out a shriek.

“Excuse me!” It was the dour woman from the front desk. “I did call out to you, several times.”

My heart
thunk-thunk
ed in my chest. What was going on? Had Rita called down to the desk? Should I just make a break for it? But I felt too dizzy
and disoriented to run anywhere.

“The card, young lady. You need to give it back,” the woman said. She sounded kinder now, probably because I looked so freaked
out.

I was clutching the 716 card so hard I’d crumpled it. I handed it back to her.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Quite alright,” she said. “Hospital policy—you are issued the card when you go up, and you return it when you leave. And
you’ll need to sign out as well.”

“Sure, yeah,” I said. I meekly followed her back to the front desk. She pushed the clipboard toward me, and I picked up the
pen and signed my name and departure time. I glanced up at the many other sig-natures on the page, and my eye fell on a familiar
number. 716. I looked over at the signature column to see who else had been in to visit Tank today.

The signature read
Orin Watkins.

That evening I tried to do some work on my BC project, but I just couldn’t concentrate. I kept running the details of my day
over and over in my head. What I really needed was to call Jac, but her mother was
not
being cool about me calling. I gave up after a few tries, half convinced that Jac wasn’t even getting my messages.

Hoping she might be checking her e-mail, if they hadn’t taken her computer away, I shot off one asking her to call me ASAP.
I was surprised when my phone rang just a few minutes after sending the e-mail.

“That was fast! Are you going to get in trouble for calling me? What if your mom tries to use the phone?”

“I’ve repossessed my cell phone,” Jac said. Her voice sounded slightly muffled, like she was surrounded by towels or something.
“I left the case in my mother’s drawer where she put it. Hopefully she won’t notice.”

“You sound like you’re in a closet,” I said.

“Easily explained, Sherlock. I
am
in the closet. And I’ve got Yo-Yo Ma playing the Dvorˇák Cello Concerto in B minor on my CD player. The closet should muffle
the sound of my voice, and Mommy Dearest will probably think my listening to Yo-Yo Ma is the first step in my cello recovery.
Maybe she’ll even leave me alone for a minute. So what’s up?”

“I went to the hospital today.”

“Oh no, what happened? Are you okay?” Jac asked anxiously.

“No, I’m fine, Jac. I went to the hospital where Julius is. I had to see him with my own eyes. He was my only link to Tank.
So I went to his room.”

“No. You. Did. Not.”

“I did. I just walked right in. It was no problem.”

I left out the bit about the close call with the other visitor and the nurse, because I wasn’t sure how much time Jac had
on the phone. Somehow I wasn’t as convinced as she was that her mother wouldn’t come poking around in her room for no good
reason.

“Julius is Tank, Jac.”

“Say what?”

“Julius and Tank aren’t brothers. They’re the same person. It’s a nickname. Tank is alive.”

There was a long pause. I could hear Yo-Yo Ma playing enthusiastically in the background.

“Okay, I’m confused, Voodoo Mama. If Tank is alive, then how could he . . . how could you . . .”

“I know. How could I see the ghost of a living person? I’ve been running it over and over in my head, Jac. The only thing
I can think of is that because Tank is in a coma, his consciousness has somehow gotten out of his body and is able to move
around. Kind of.”

“But how . . . isn’t . . .”

“I’m just guessing, remember. But I had this dream, Jac, where Tank was in a boat that was attached to the shore by a cord.
And I was trying to get to him. But then the cord was cut, and he began to drift away. See?”

“Merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream?” Jac asked.

“No. I think the boat represented Tank’s consciousness—his spirit. The dream was explaining why Tank needed help. His spirit
is in danger of separating from his body. My mom says that our spirits are connected to our bodies by a silver cord of energy.
If that cord gets cut, Tank’s spirit might not be able to find its way back to his body. And if the spirit stays out of a
living body too long, it might not ever be able to find its way back. Maybe that’s why he won’t wake up.”

“Whoa.”

“I know, right?” I said, grinning. “But it’s the best theory I can come up with. And my . . . my intuition tells me I’m on
the right track.”

“Okay, so let’s say you’re right. How do you help Tank?”

I sighed.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” I said. “I know how to contact the dead, not to reconnect the living with their bodies.”

“Well, what does your famous intuition say?”

I sighed again, deeper this time.

“I’m coming up empty except for one option, which I’m not crazy about.”

“Spit it out, Voodoo Mama.”

“When I was leaving the hospital, I had to sign out. And I noticed that Tank had had another visitor just before me. Orin
Watkins.”

“Shaggy hot guy you told me about?” Jac exclaimed.

My cheeks flushed, and I was glad she couldn’t see me.

“Yeah. It’s crazy, right? But he’s obviously connected to Tank. Remember, the first time I saw him he was standing outside
Tank’s house, just staring at it. Now he’s been to see Tank in the hospital. I’m at a dead end here, no pun intended, and
it seems like Orin is the only person who might know what to do next.”